11:32 A.M. Bathe
12:04 A.M. Review for examination on identification of birds of the finch family
1:00 P.M. Luncheon: steamed chicken, fresh fruit, lemonade. We will discuss the symbolism in Gray’s “Elegy in a Country Churchyard.”
2:12 P.M. Examination on French irregular verbs
2:34 P.M. Watercolors if examination score is 96 or better. If not—study!
3:11 P.M. Rest
4:37 P.M. Sewing with Mrs. Gunston. Practice in cut work.
5:39 P.M. Dress for dinner. Wear the pink Jeanne Hallet dress—do not forget the rose belt.
6:30 P.M. Dinner: two steamed vegetables, broiled fish, skimmed milk. Discussions will include late-nineteenth-century literary masterpieces.
7:38 P.M. Reading aloud in the parlor; tonight’s passage is from Thoreau’s Walden. (Be prepared to discuss that region’s flora and fauna.)
9:10 P.M. Prepare for bed (including breathing exercises)
10:00 P.M. Bed
At last, dressed in the elegant dress Taylor had chosen for her, both chosen from her closet and chosen from her dressmaker, Amanda left her room to go to the bathroom at the end of the hall. She glanced quickly at one of the clocks Taylor had insisted upon being distributed throughout the house and saw that she was exactly on schedule. The morning time in the bathroom was four minutes—Taylor had timed her, then subtracted a minute for efficiency’s sake. She checked her hair in the mirror to make sure there were no stray strands escaping. Taylor believed that unkempt hair was the sign of a wanton woman.
She left the bathroom, saw she was a full forty-five seconds overtime and began to hurry down the stairs.
“Amanda!”
It was Taylor’s voice, low, deep, and full of disapproval. He was standing in a shadow at the foot of the stairs, his pocket watch in his hand, a scowl bringing his dark brows together. Immediately, Amanda slowed her pace, hoping her wildly beating heart couldn’t be heard.
“Were you running, Amanda?” he inquired in the same tone one would ask, Were you trying to cut off the cat’s tail? It was a mixture of horror and disbelief.
Amanda had never thought of lying to Taylor. “I was hurrying, yes,” she said softly. “I apologize.”
“Good.” He put his watch back in the vest pocket of the dark suit he wore. Taylor was always immaculate, with never a wrinkle or dust spot to be seen on his person. He could ride in the back of an open auto along dusty roads and come out as clean as when he stepped into the car. No matter how hot it grew, Taylor never perspired. He also never bent. His back was straight and rigid, his shoulders back as far as any soldier’s. He was tall, very thin (which he said showed that he had control over one of the primitive aspects of man—hunger) and handsome in a dark, almost forbidding way. Sometimes Amanda thought Taylor looked a bit like a photograph of a handsome man that had come to life.
Taylor turned to Amanda and inspected her. He made sure every hair was pulled back, that her dress was perfectly ironed, that her stocking seams were straight, her shoes polished. He saw that she stood up very straight—no slumping in the woman he was to marry—and frowned briefly at her breasts. When she stood with her shoulders back like that she looked too…too feminine.
He turned on his heel and went toward the dining room, and Amanda breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. She had passed inspection and, what is more, he had not been angry with her for rushing down the stairs in her hoyden manner that he hated so much.
Courteously, Taylor held her chair out for her in the dining room, then took the place at the head of the table. As always, her mother took breakfast in her sitting room while her father ate earlier. Sometimes Amanda thought her father didn’t want to eat with her and Taylor, that perhaps their enlightened discussions bothered him. After all, J. Harker had quit school in the eighth grade to support his family and that was why he was so insistent that his daughter be educated and that she marry an educated man.
The maid placed Amanda’s egg before her, her single piece of dry toast to one side, and Amanda knew she was to start the conversation. Taylor liked to know that she had memorized the schedule he had so laboriously prepared.
“I believe free wool was one of the major issues of President Wilson’s tariff reform, that is, the removal of a duty on imported raw wool.”
Taylor didn’t speak but he nodded, so she knew she was right. It was so difficult remembering all the topics of current events.
“And the duty on manufactured woolen goods has been reduced to thirty-five percent. This, of course, puts a burden on American farmers who sell wool, but on the other hand American manufacturers can buy wool from anywhere in the world.”
Taylor nodded. “And the sugar?”
“The tax on imported sugar protects the Louisiana cane growers and the Western beet farmers.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You know nothing else about the sugar tariff?”
Frantically, she searched her memory. “Oh yes, the sugar tariff will be lifted in three years. The Western beet farmers say—”